Chapter Forty-Eight
Choices - Wyatt
I'm buttoning up my dress shirt when I hear my phone vibrate on the shelf in my stall behind me. What a night. I’m still buzzing. We fucking beat Notre Dame.
And I scored the winning goal.
I can’t stop smiling. I reach for my phone, and it vibrates for a second time before I can look at the screen. Probably more congratulatory messages. I’ve received a shit ton, and I appreciate each and every one of them.
But the one that mattered most was from Grace.
I can’t describe what it was like to play in front of her.
Knowing she was there, cheering me one, wearing my jersey …
it’s a thrill I never knew I needed until I got it.
Seeing her in my jersey, her eyes locked on me, knowing how she was there just for me—now that I know the feeling, I don’t ever want to play any other way when we have a home game.
My thoughts shift to what comes next. I’m taking her to dinner with my family. I want them to see how amazing she is and how we are together. Then after we drop Grace off?
It’s time for a big conversation with my dad.
I grab my phone to check my messages again. I see the most recent one is from Nolan:
Hey. I’ve got your girl and I’m taking her back to the house with my parents. Wanted to let you know she’s OK.
My heart stops. What? What is he talking about? What happened to Grace?
I see the next message is from Grace, and I start to panic:
I think it’s best that I’m not here right now, Wy. We can talk later. I love you.
Now my heart begins throbbing inside my chest. A cold, awful feeling forms in the pit of my stomach. She was out there with my dad.
Goddamn it.
Another message, from my sister:
Dad was a complete ASSHOLE to Grace!! I tried to stop him, but Grace decided to leave. I am so pissed off, I’m not talking to either Mom or Dad right now.
Fuck. Fuck!
I quickly finish getting dressed as horrible scenarios run through my head.
What did my dad do to make Grace leave? Did he humiliate her?
Scare her by telling her some bullshit about ruining my career?
Anger builds as I think about what might have gone down in that hallway.
She’s obviously upset if Nolan took her with him.
I grab my suit jacket, not bothering to put it on, and manage to say goodbye to the guys still here, my mind reeling with one gut-wrenching thought.
What if she decides she deserves better than this?
Sometimes love isn’t enough. Not when you have an overbearing father and a passive mother who can’t even be nice to your girlfriend the first time they meet her. Dad must have said something awful to her, and she might decide she doesn’t want to be treated like this. Grace could leave me—
I can’t even finish the thought.
I push open the door and hurry into the hallway. Most people are gone now, so it’s easy to spot my family. Rachel is standing across the hallway from Mom and Dad, her arms folded across her chest. My parents are talking to each other.
I storm right up to Dad. “We need to have a conversation outside,” I snap, my voice low. “Right now. If you refuse, I will make a big fucking scene right here, and I don’t think the father of Wyatt Jacobs would want that.”
Dad’s eyes widen. I’ve never spoken to him like this in my life.
“Your choice, or I start yelling. And I will yell the truth,” I warn.
“Go,” Mom says, putting her hand on Dad’s arm. She hates conflict and any kind of scene. “Please take this outside.”
I turn on her. “You’re just as complicit, Mom. Just as bad as he is,” I say, my voice going up a notch. “Because your silence means you agree.”
She blanches. “Wy, I—”
I throw up a hand. I don’t want to hear her bullshit now. “No, save it.” Then I turn to my dad. “Outside. Now.”
I storm off in the direction of the exit, angrily pushing the door open. I do it so hard, it bangs against the brick wall next to it with a harsh rattling sound.
I keep walking until I’m around the side of the building. I wait for Dad to catch up, and finally he appears. I step closer to him, my body damn near vibrating with anger that has been building inside me since I was a preteen.
“This stops tonight,” I snap. “Your interference in my life is over.”
Dad sighs. “Wyatt, I’m sure Grace—”
“What did you say to her?” I shout, interrupting him. “I swear to God if you ruined what I have with Grace, I’ll never ever forgive you for it.”
Dad stares at me as if I’m a child who needs something basic explained to him.
“Wyatt. I know you’re upset. And I’m sure Grace is a nice girl.
But like I told you, the right girl at the wrong time is one hundred percent the wrong girl.
And that’s what this is, son. She’s the wrong girl.
For Christ’s sake, Wyatt, she has you running around being a damn advocate and wasting your time saving ridiculous sports—”
“What,” I repeat again, my voice shaking with anger, “did you say to her?”
Dad rakes a hand through his hair. “I told her I didn’t want her there. That she should leave.”
“What?” I’m appalled. “What the fuck, Dad? How dare you talk Grace like that!”
“Wyatt. Calm down. I told her I didn’t think this was the right time for a relationship and she was distracting you fro—”
“Stop right there. You have no right—none—to interfere in my relationship with Grace.” I grip the suit jacket tighter in my fist as my anger surges. “I thought you would behave in front of her. I trusted you to do that much. But I should have known. God, I should have known!”
I feel sick. Nauseous. Grace doesn’t need this bullshit, to be treated like crap the very first time she meets my dad. What is she thinking right now?
Panic begins to build in me. I could lose her over this.
If I haven’t already.
“Son. You’re mad now, but you’ll see that this is not right for y—”
“Would you stop?” I shout, cutting him off. “That’s not for you to decide! You do not have the right to tell me what my relationships should be!”
“You are so close to getting everything you want,” Dad reminds me. “Don’t let some girl get in the way of that.”
“I love her! And I won’t let you ever talk to her like that again, do you hear me?”
“Calm down. I—”
“No! You’re going to listen to me now. I let this go on for far too long because I kept telling myself you had my best interests at heart. But the truth is? You don’t. Your endgame is not to have a son. You want a fucking draft pick.”
Dad stares at me with a shocked expression on his face, as if I’ve just landed a punch on his jaw. “What?”
“You heard me. You’re using me because you couldn’t cut it as an elite athlete,” I rail as all the feelings I’ve buried for years burst through my self-imposed barriers.
“I’m nothing but a tool to live out your jock-sniffing fantasies.
But that’s over now. This is my life. My hockey dreams. And I don’t want you to micromanage me anymore! ”
“What has this girl done to you?” Dad asks, his voice shaking with anger. “You never had crazy thoughts like this before!”
“Grace has done nothing but support me and love me. Her love is unconditional. I don’t think yours, however, is. I’ve always had these thoughts, but I didn’t want to believe my own father loved my hockey career more than he loved me.”
“That is not true!” Dad counters, sounding desperate now.
“Isn’t it?”
“No, of course not!” he shouts.
“Glad to hear it. Because I’m giving you an opportunity to prove it.
I don’t want daily messages from you about hockey.
I don’t want your training tips, I don’t want to know what you thought of my stats, I don’t want you pushing me to do the minimum in class.
None of that. Our relationship is no longer going to be centered around hockey. ”
“You’re being stupid, Wyatt. I only do these things to help you. I have sacrificed everything to help you achieve this dream, and here you are, throwing it in my face? All I ever wanted was the best for you. I want you to be drafted—”
“Because you dreamed of being drafted,” I challenge. “This is for yourself, Dad. Not for me. You are living through me for that NHL dream. Do I want that? Of course. Do I want it so much I’m willing to give up everything else in my life? No.”
Dad’s face is twisting into different emotions. Shock, Anger. Frustration.
But I won’t bend. I’m not going to pretend it’s okay. Not anymore.
“Don’t call me about hockey. Don’t text me about it. Don’t come to my games until you can be my dad. Watching his son living his own dream. On his terms.”
And then I walk away.
“Wyatt!” he shouts after me.
My body is on such a rush from adrenaline, I’m shaking. I turn around and stare at him.
“If you don’t get drafted, it’s on you,” he shouts at me.
I bark with harsh laughter. “Got it. Oh, and Dad?”
He stares at me.
“In hockey, you’re always one injury away from being done,” I say.
“That’s why I’m at OCU. I hope I get drafted, but this NHL dream could end early.
Hopefully that won’t happen, I’ll get drafted, and I’ll be able to play professionally.
But at some point it will end. That’s why I’ll continue to work toward my degree, even when I’m playing.
I’m going to do other things with my life when hockey ends.
But what are you going to do when my dream ends?
Because at the rate you’re going, you’ll have nothing. ”
Then I turn around and walk away, ignoring him shouting at me to come back. My heart is pounding. My throat is dry. But I feel as if all the weight that I’ve carried on my back—the weight of his dreams and mine, the weight I’ve carried for years—is finally gone.
But another anxiety has filled that space, one that has me sprinting through the parking lot to my SUV, my chest feeling like it might crack right open.
I’m finally free of my dad.
But I might have lost Grace in the process.
I blink back tears. That can’t happen. I can’t lose her. I can’t.